TITLE: Unresolved III: The Little Black Dress
AUTHOR: bellefleur
EMAIL ADDRESS: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR, A
SPOILER WARNING: En Ami
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
SUMMARY: The blessings and frustrations of a platonic 
relationship; or, between the scenes glimpses from season 
seven.

* * * * *

3a


After the trip to CGB's "office," Scully felt quite defeated.  
Mulder was right--the Smoking Man had used her, conned her.  
Even though Mulder thought her life had been in danger, in an 
inexplicable way she felt safe with Spender.  She certainly 
didn't trust him, and she still had her doubts about what 
happened that night while she was unconscious, but she didn't 
feel like he wanted her dead.  Why now, after all these years?  
There had been plenty of opportunities for him to kill both 
her and Mulder, but here he was, emphasizing that he had 
already given her the gift of life.  Why take it away now?

Scully was ready to go home and try to put this experience 
behind her.  Other than her pride, she was grateful nothing 
had been lost and she was no worse off than when she started 
out on this journey.  If she was lucky, she could act like it 
never happened.  

The tension remained thick in the car as they returned to 
Mulder's apartment building.  Scully was more than eager to 
get back to her fleet sedan, make the quick errand of 
returning it to the motor pool, and retreat to the solitude of 
her own apartment.  She was nearly out the door of Mulder's 
car when he offered, "I'll meet you at the office and give you 
a ride home."  She could just as easily take a cab, but he was 
handing her an olive branch, and she dare not refuse it.

When they arrived at Scully's building, Mulder retrieved her 
suitcase from the trunk and followed her to the door without 
even asking if she wanted his company.  But she didn't object.  
She felt torn between wanting to be alone right now and 
needing to feel Mulder's forgiveness.  And, there was a 
nagging thought in the back of her mind that maybe the Smoking 
Man would be sitting in her apartment waiting for her.  If so, 
she wouldn't mind the backup.

But the stale air carried no hint of cigarette smoke as they 
entered her apartment.  Her partner carried the suitcase 
directly to her bedroom and set it down just inside the door.  
Scully began to sift through her mail, but she noticed that 
Mulder hadn't returned.  She looked up to see him watching her 
from the hallway.  It was the first time they had truly made 
eye contact since her return.

Sighing, she threw her keys down on the kitchen table, 
followed by the mail.  The uneasy silence that had ridden with 
them all the way from the abandoned office building was 
finally more than she could bear.  "Mulder, I'm sorry.  I 
thought I was taking the necessary precautions.  I thought 
what I was doing was worth the risk.  I admit that I was 
wrong, but I managed to walk away unscathed, so I'd just like 
to put this behind me and move on."

"I'm just glad you're okay."

The lack of animosity in his voice threw her off guard.  She 
knew there was more to his feelings than what that simple 
statement expressed, but she was grateful that he withheld the 
rest for the time being.  Only now did she recognize that his 
previous anger had defused into compassion--she only hoped it 
was not pity.

Accepting his concern with a nod, Scully walked past him into 
the bedroom and pulled her suitcase onto the bed.  She wanted 
to bring closure to this episode as soon as possible.  
Disregarding Mulder's continued presence in the doorway, she 
opened the luggage and began to unpack.  She wasn't sure how 
long he intended to stay, or what exactly he expected from her 
at the moment.  But his quiet presence was preferable to him 
fleeing from her or upending her furniture.  

With methodical movements developed through years of practice, 
she separated items of clothing, determining which were clean 
and could be returned to drawers or hangers, and which would 
join the laundry or dry cleaning.  With all of their travel, 
it was a wonder that she wasn't always living out of a 
suitcase.  Some weeks, she wondered if she would ever see her 
own closet again.  

Her practiced motions abruptly halted as she came upon an 
unexpected item of clothing.  Peeking through the layers was a 
scrap of black silk.  Even before extracting it, she knew it 
was the dress she had worn to dinner the night before.  She 
didn't remember packing it--in fact, she had made a point of 
leaving it in the closet.  Her companion must have gotten into 
her luggage and packed it for her.  That wasn't particularly 
surprising considering that he clearly had no respect for her 
privacy.

Scully suddenly remembered she had an audience.  She didn't 
know how intently Mulder was watching her and whether he had 
noticed her hesitation.  Trying to act nonchalant, she quickly 
walked over to the closet, keeping the dress hidden by her 
body.  But the voice behind her brought her up short.

"That doesn't look like your usual nightwear."

For Mulder to think this was a negligee that she purposely 
brought along for her trip with the Smoking Man was worse than 
him knowing the truth.  She hastened to correct him.  "It's 
not a nightgown, Mulder, it's an evening gown.  It was a 
gift."

Mulder's eyebrows skyrocketed.  "Let me see it."  It was a 
demand rather than a request.

Scully bristled at his tone, but she knew that trying to hide 
it would make matters worse.  Holding the dress out at arm's 
length by the shoulder straps, she released the bunched fabric 
and let gravity unfold it. 
       
Mulder cleared his throat, but his voice was still husky as he 
said, "Where did you hide the tape recorder under that thing?"

Feeling he'd seen enough, Scully pulled the dress back and 
turned to hang it up in the closet.  "I didn't.  I think that 
was the point."  

There was no immediate reply.  She didn't look back up at him 
but continued to unpack, hoping that this exchange would soon 
be forgotten.  

It wasn't until she had moved closer to Mulder, putting her 
clean socks away in the dresser, that he spoke again.  Leaning 
toward her, he said softly, "I want to see you in that dress."

There was something dangerous in his voice, and Scully paused 
a beat before meeting his gaze.  But his expression remained 
inscrutable.  She wasn't quite sure how to respond.  Was this 
some kind of alpha male thing--If he got to see you in that 
dress, then I should, too?  Or was he simply aroused by the 
thought of her wearing it? 

Walking back toward the suitcase, she spoke almost 
dismissively over her shoulder.  "It's an evening dress, 
Mulder, meant for a formal occasion."

"Then I'll take you out to dinner tomorrow night--to a formal 
restaurant--so you can wear that dress."

She looked at him, gauging his intentions.  There was a 
challenge in his eyes.  

Scully was never one to back down from a challenge.  "Pick me 
up at seven."

He smiled and let his eyes wander predatorily over her frame, 
as though anticipating her appearance.  Without another word, 
he turned and left the apartment.

******
End 3a
******

To be continued (hopefully)...


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